


This Cold December Night

by Theworldisours



Series: Too Late For Lullabies [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, Christmas, Cousin Incest, Depression, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Linear Narrative, adulting is hard the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theworldisours/pseuds/Theworldisours
Summary: The years keep coming and the Stark's Christmas parties remain an important family tradition, but life does not stop for celebrations and Christmas lights can't fix everything. Sequel for Cold December Nights.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Robb Stark
Series: Too Late For Lullabies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1016847
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	1. Last Christmas... This Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, merry christmas to all! Have another mildly sad christmas fic.  
> This one basically covers a few christmas between the last chapter and the epilogue of Cold December Nights, so this won't make much sense if you haven't read that.  
> Now before this gets too long, instead of separating this in linear chapters with time skips I've made this one non-linear. It might get a little confusing since I didn't use dates so here's an overview:  
> ❄️A year after Robb's last pov in CDN  
> ❄️❄️ two years after  
> ❄️❄️❄️ five years after

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ 

It begins as it often did before—a pang of guilt that hits him like a stone to the back of the head—(hadn’t Arya done that to him, once?), it makes his skin crawl and his nails dig through skin until he wakes with marks he hadn’t sleep with. Robb sighs to himself, forces himself out of bed, the sole of his feet itch as they touch the cold hard floor but he ignores it as he walks into the small bathroom and downs his morning pills. 

The reflection in the mirror is misshapen, though he doesn’t know how much he can trust it these days. His beard is growing in uneven patches and he’s yet to have the courage to trim it, his hair needs some cutting too and for a second he considers shaving it off completely. He never had a buzzcut, now that he thinks of it, perhaps it’s time to try it. 

Robb is shaken out of his musing as Jon holds him from behind, mouth tracing the sensitive skin of his neck as he mutters morning in that drowsy tone that remains until his first sip of coffee. Robb smiles, besides himself, and lets Jon hold him. 

“Gonna shower?” Jon asks. And Robb wonders what his mother would say if he arrived like that, he gives a short nod and Jon lets out a breath against his neck, pulling him closer, Robb wants to fall into him. 

“Don’t take too long,” he continues, fingertips tracing a faded mark on Robb’s arm. “It’s been quite a while since we all meet up.” 

Robb feels the guilt come back full force, he feels like a sink overflowing with empty promises and missed gatherings instead of water. He lets out a sight. 

“Sure.” 

He pulls away from the embrace, boxers falling away as he walks beneath the shower and prays Jon doesn’t wait outside the door again. 

❄️ 

The tree in the corner of the room is shining with about three different set of lights, hanging on its branches are intricate ornaments that his mother probably handpicked at some point, swags and ribbons hang through the house on random spots like it’s occupied by elfs. 

Robb doesn’t think the house has been this festive since he was about ten and his siblings had been all around the age Christmas still meant the happiest time of the year, or some sappy overused line like that. 

For him, it had been quite a while since the dreamlike quality faded, and so the lights and the decoration start to seem just a little exaggerated—makes him wonder if he’s not the reason for them. The way his mother seems to be trying extra hard to make it a good Christmas as a way to make up for last year’s fiasco. He doesn’t know how to break it to her that she can’t micromanage how things turn out, doesn’t know if it’d be of any use if he did. 

So instead he settles for helping her put up the lights, hang around decorations, distribute mistletoe and all the sorts of things that he thought he was too grown up, bitter and faded to do. All with a smile on his face that he hopes tells her and everyone else he’s okay. 

He listens to music as he does it, and he was slightly ashamed to admit he’d kept listening to the song Jon had showed him just a year ago over and over, like a hymn, decorating the lyrics until the words settle beneath his skin. Like the words Jon told him that night, the way he’d held him in the snow and Robb felt lost but found at once. 

_Lord knows I burnt you the best I could_ , indeed. 

He’d listen to others song too, mostly on the same melancholy tone. A few were more upbeat, some Jon had sent him. His year had been filled with silent notifications and Spotify links that he’d open right away, and wait until the fifth or sixth time he’d listened before writing back—sometimes with another song, it was easier to say what he wanted this way. Eventually they made a playlist, then when it got past three hours long they made another one. 

He tried not to overthink that musical communication, tried to leave things as they were and pretend nothing meant anything, even when they sent each other love songs, even when the lyrics seemed to fit them better than they should. 

He tried not to let Jon make his way back into his chest, to carve himself into the emptiness that resided there, but there had nothing for him to carve out because Jon had never left at all. Robb had tried replacing him with other people, other things, and it’d never worked. 

The therapist he was seeing said it might take time, to truly let go of his feelings for Jon, to deal with it the way he hadn’t done in the past. He then asked if Robb _wanted_ to do that at all. Robb was silent then, though the answer had been clear for both of them, he couldn’t bring himself to say it—couldn't admit it even now. 

Arya eyed him from where she watched the news, noticing the way he’d folded into himself, legs shifting and shaking now that he had nothing else to do. She raised an eyebrow when he caught her stare and Robb ignored it, deciding instead to pull his earplugs out of his pocket and start their second playlist for the fifth time in the day. 

❄️ ❄️

“Are you sure you don’t want me to contact him?” His father asks again as they sit on the kitchen table, tone gentle like... a father of a particularly dense child and Robb knows it’s his mother doing, so he sighs and tells him no again, for the fifth time. 

“I am sure they’d have a perfectly fine position for you...” 

“Dad, I'm really not interested in corporate law anymore,” _I never was_ , he neglects to say, his father nods ignoring the snappy tone of his voice. Robb sighs. 

“Business is slow right now, is all, tell mom not to worry, will you?” hopes it soften the edges of this long-winded discussion. 

Ned doesn’t answer, just looks at him. “If you’re sure.” it looks like he might say something else, but he’s interrupted as Jon walks in, carrying a large package, all wrapped up in silver giftwrap. 

“Grandma’s,” He explains, nodding in greeting to Robb as he sets it on the table. “Can you hide it in your room, uncle?” 

“Of course,” Ned answers, moving to get it. He shots Robb another look, making clear the conversation isn’t over even as he walks away to store the gift. 

“Well...” Robb says, “thanks for that.” 

“Huh?” Jon says, moving to the stove and lighting up the kettle. “Business talk, again?” 

“Yeah.” Robb admits, slumping on his chair and staring straight ahead. It seems like his failures are always getting discussed. “Maybe I should just give in.” it’s more of a thought than an attempt at a conversation. 

Jon looks back with a questioning look. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Robb says, “I can barely make rent, maybe I'm just fooling myself, you know?” 

Jon simply stares at him, grey eyes unyielding. “What?” Robb asks, it hits him how unfamiliar he’s grown to Jon’s stares. 

“I don’t know,” Jon says, “Can’t talk about... well, your previous job really, since we weren’t... in touch really, but you seemed pretty excited to start your own thing, still did, last time we talked about it.” 

When had that been? A week or two ago, between a song recommendation and another. 

“Well, I am.” Robb says quickly as he runs a hand through his hair, “Doesn’t mean it can pay the bills.” 

“So? Can’t you cut some expenses?” 

Robb laughs, Jon’s making it seem simpler than it is. 

“It’s not that simple, Jon.” 

“Look,” Jon serves himself a cup of tea, and puts another one in front of Robb who takes it trying not to get comfortable with the ease of it all. “You knew it’d be hard starting your business, but you did anyway, did you do it for money?” 

“You know I didn’t.” Robb answers, he had enough money working for Bolton, and it just made him miserable, “I just... wanted to help people, somehow.” 

“Are you?” 

Robb thought about the few clients he managed to defend, and then the even fewer ones he’d managed to score some sort of win. It wasn’t a long list by any shot, but... honestly he’d rather sue some asshole landlord and get a few hundred bucks from his client’s pay than destroy people’s lives with shitty but seductive settlements as he had before. 

“Yeah.” Robb said, “I guess so.” 

He drank the tea, Jon nodded. “Well, I remember you telling me to figure what I wanted to do and do that, simple as that. So screw everyone, keep doing it.” 

Robb sighed, tired of discussing this, tired of having to think and decide stuff like this. “Let’s talk about something else, it’s fucking christmas.” 

Jon laughed. “You’re right it is.” then with a smirk, he added, “What’d you wanna talk about?” 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ 

His mother receives them on the door, snow falling slowly as they move out of the car. He watches the tense way Jon’s shoulders sets, carrying out the gifts he bought and signed for both of them. She manages a smile, though her eyes are stuck on Robb’s overgrown beard, the way his cheeks hollow slightly. 

“Hello, mom,” he says, feeling small and insecure under her eyes. 

“I’m glad you’ve found time to come, Robb,” She wraps herself around him, like she might not let him go. Jon waits next to them, nodding at her as she does let go of Robb. 

“Nice to see you Catelyn,” He says. 

“Jon,” Catelyn lets out. She dusts something off his coat, probably the warmest she’s been in a long time towards him Robb notices with some bitterness. “You can leave the gifts with me, come on in.” 

“Everyone here yet?” Robb asks. 

“Not everyone,” Catelyn answers as Jon helps her set the presents under the tree and Robb considers throwing himself on the couch before thinking better of it. He admires the humble decoration before he walks into the kitchen to find his father struggling with the oven. 

Ned closes it with a sigh and looks up, smiling as he notices Robb. 

“Robb,” He smiles and hugs him tightly for a little longer than necessary. 

“How you’re doing dad?” 

Ned’s smile is forced this time. “Alright, considering...” he shakes his head, “how you boys been doing?” 

“Fine.” Robb answers, quickly, and takes a seat. “Jon got the associate teaching position, did he tell you?” 

“Oh yes,” Ned says, “we’re quite proud of him.” 

“Suppose he makes for a good teacher, huh,” Arya interrupts them, walking into the room and leaning in for a half hug. 

“Yeah,” Robb had seen one or two of his lectures, though most of it went over his head it was impressive, anyway. “Did you think that when he was helping you with homework?” He asks, remembering he had to fill in that position for years after they broke up, the guilt surges up again. 

Arya laughs like it doesn’t register at all for her. Robb hopes it doesn’t. 

“How you doing?” Arya asks before Robb has the chance to move the discussion to someone else. 

“Great.” He says. Then not to be too in the face he adds, “won quite a few cases this year.” 

“I’d congratulate you but you know I despise lawyers.” She says, moving towards the fridge. 

“That’s alright,” Robb says, eyeing his father at the oven, “I’ll check up on Jon.” 

He moves without waiting for an answer. 

“...I’m not quite sure, he doesn’t speak much about it.” 

“In any case, it might be good—” They stop talking as he walks through the door, and his mother smiles, getting up from the couch where she and Jon were probably discussing him. 

At least something made they get along, Robb thinks. 

“Sansa’s almost here,” She announces, changing the subject with ease, “she’s missed you so much Robb.” 

“Oh?” Robb says, feigning oblivion as his mother talks about how great she’s doing in the city and how happy she is with her new boyfriend. Robb settles next to Jon and holds his hand, nodding along until his mother excuses herself to the kitchen. 

“You okay?” Jon asks in a half whisper, deep grey eyes on him. 

“Yeah.” It’s not a full lie and he thinks Jon knows that as he leans in for a kiss. 

“Tell me if you need to flee, will you?” Robb nods against him, and closes his eyes. He doesn’t fully regret coming. 

❄️

The house fills up fast. First with his grandparents—Lyarra holds him for not an inconsiderable amount of time and scans him for anything that might be wrong while his grandfather simply claps him in the back and asks how he’s doing—, next with his siblings, with Rickon sauntering in with an absurd amount of energy and Robb catches himself laughing as he talks about school with Bran, who is otherwise very contained. Arya and Sansa arrive almost together and immediately start arguing about politics. 

Then Theon arrives, carrying a gift for Robb—socks... and a book—, Robb informs him his will arrive soon as he sits next to him and answers texts on his phone as Robb pretends he's not eyeing the door. 

“You should chill out.” Theon tells him. 

“Huh?” 

“It looks like you’re a sad puppy waiting for his owner to show up, it’s... disconcerting.” 

“Oh,” Robb says, frowning. 

Theon snorts. “It’s not _that_ bad but—it's just Jon, you can see him anytime.” 

“We... haven’t.” Robb shrugs, “Last time I saw him was on his birthday.” 

He remembers how awkward it was to hang around his friends as they talked about people he hadn’t met and probably wondered what his weird cousin was doing there. But he also remembers Jon’s face as he arrived, the way he’d smiled and thanked him for coming. Tries not to think about climbing to his bed after they drank too much and spending the night forcing himself not to cry in his arms. 

“So, you’re not getting back together?” Theon asks. 

Robb looks at him and shakes his head like that can make him take back the question, but before he can come up with an answer the door opens Lyanna walks in with a smile, Jon trailing in after her, hands in his pocket and awkward smile as his eyes meet Robb’s. 

“Hello, boys,” Lyanna says, smiling. Robb gets up. 

❄️ ❄️

The gifts wrapped beneath the christmas tree pile up throughout the night, more so after his grandparents arrive, and Robb carefully avoids the look his grandfather shots him as he leans down to leave the last ones. It becomes impossible to ignore however when Rickard sits down next to him with a shake of his head. 

“Listen, you can’t keep rejecting job offers like that,” He says, right away, “it was hard enough convincing them to give you another chance, boy.” 

“I have a job, grandpa.” Robb told him, voice quieter than he wished it’d been. 

“And how’s that going so far, huh? Charity work doesn’t pay bills, Robb.” He shakes his head again. “You had a good life, son.” 

Robb bites his tongue. “Wasn’t that great, to be honest.” 

“At least you didn’t have to ask your parents for money. Did you?” Rickard asks, tone as sharp as his words, the grey of his eyes remind him a little of Jon’s, but Jon never gave him the harsh look his grandfather gives him now. “We are here for you-we've supported you through all _this_ ,” Robb laughs bitterly as he says it, but Rickard keeps going, “but you’ve got to get your life back together Robb.” 

Robb stays silent, Sansa eyes them warily from where she sits across the room, raising an eyebrow as she notices Robb’s stare. He wonders how Jon managed to deal with backhanded criticism like this the past years, perhaps there was more than one reason to avoid the family. 

“That girl, Jeyne was it? Did you see her again, given your relationship another shot maybe?” 

“I-I’m gay.” Robb states, emotionless. It is perhaps a bit too late in life to start coming out like this but it’s the truth and Robb doesn’t feels like he should avoid it anymore. Not after everything. “I am gay, and I can’t... and won’t be in any relationship unless...” he sighs. “unless it’s with a man I love, and you should accept that.” 

Rickard huffs at him, hands on his knees as he gets up. “Honestly, you kids... be it as it may, Roose assured me you have a spot ready, think it through, you have until new year’s to give me an answer.” 

With that he leaves, still shaking his head like Robb was an absurdity. Robb relaxes into the couch again, wondering what he’d done to deserve this. 

“That... took some courage.” Sansa says. 

“Now you say something.” Robb retorts, only half joking. 

“I’ve my own battles with him, thank you very much,” She takes Rickard’s place in the couch. “You did good though.” 

“Doesn’t feel like it.” 

She gives him a half smile, rubs his shoulder through his sweatshirt. “You’re not going back to that place, are you?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s right, sometimes it feels like the obvious choice, really.” 

“It’s not the right one, though, we all know that.” She continues and Robb laughs. 

“Tell that to mom.” 

“Oh, Robb,” She says softly with a pained expression, holding tighter onto him, “She knows. I doubt her and dad mind helping, you know? They just worry. It's their job.” 

Robb shrugs. “It’s going to be fine, really.” 

She leans into his shoulder and hugs him. “It _is_ fine you don’t need to cuddle me.” 

“Shut up you oaf, I'm trying to be nice.” 

Robb let’s out a laugh. “What’s he nagging you about?” 

It’s Sansa’s turn to grow bitter. “Joffrey.” 

“What? Why?” No one ever understood Sansa’s relationship with the Lannister boy, but truth be told ever since their admittedly messy breakup no one had anything to say about it except ‘good for you, Sansa’ and ‘good riddance’. 

“Well, first for dating him,” She mutters, slightly amused at that, “which is... fair enough, I'll admit, but also for everything else, my career, not seeing anyone, not giving him grandma grandchildren... it goes on and on, I think most of it is that Arya won’t listen to any of it anymore so that leaves him with me, well, and you.” 

“And Jon.” Robb adds. 

“Oh no,” Sansa says, voice dripping with irony, “Jon is a whole other bag of shitty attitudes. He has some golden patience, let me tell you.” 

“That he does.” Robb agrees, hugging her. 

“Yay Christmas,” Sansa jokes after a while. 

“Well, it can’t be worse than for the Lannisters.” 

“Ohh,” Sansa says, mouth curling into a smirk, “you don’t know the half of it. I have stories to tell.” 

Robb was genuinely amused now. “ _Please_ do.” 


	2. The Days After Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❄️ A year after CDN  
> ❄️ ❄️ Two years after  
> ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ Five years after  
> ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ Set after the epilogue

❄️ 

The cups are gathered on the table, next to bottles in varying degrees of emptiness. There's a sticky stain on the floor where Theon spilled a beer, and a shoe that probably belonged to Sansa is on the porch. Jon watches Robb search the fridge for leftovers and sips on his lukewarm tea. 

His breath rises in the cold air as Robb settles next to him with a piece of pie and a small smile that reminds him of when things were simpler. The shy rays of sun make his auburn hair seem almost blond, he hadn’t expected anyone to be awake this early much less Robb. 

“You’re done with your masters then?” Robb asks between bites. 

Jon nods, accepting Robb’s congratulations as warmly as he can manage with how lost he feels. 

“What now?” Robb continues. 

“Isn’t that the question?” Jon retorts with a smile. Then, with a sigh he admits, “I really have no clue.” 

“That’s academic life for you.” Robb says watching his face. Jon has to look away for a second. 

“What about you,” Jon asks, before he can think better about it, “what are you planning to do?” 

Robb shifts his feet, kicking away some snow. The house is silent behind them. 

“I don’t think I want to keep consulting,” Robb says, “but I'm not sure the other options are any better, you know?” 

Jon nods. “At least you get paid until you figure out what to do.” 

Robb stares at him for a second. “I’m sure you’ll find something soon.” 

Jon smiles politely. “I’d be happy if I had any idea of what to do.” 

“Weren’t you trying for a PhD?” 

Jon sighs. “Yeah, I'm not sure that’s going to stick, really.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, my advisor is retiring, for one. He introduced me to a friend but... I’m sure he’ll have even more ‘suggestions’ on my project and I'm not sure it’s worth it.” He thinks about the expenses with moving, the distance from everyone he knows, the tuition fees, and starts wishing he was still a kid worried about presents and not... any of this. 

“That sucks.” Robb says, looking ahead with a blank expression. 

“When did we get so boring?” Jon asks. “Talking about jobs, waking up at the crack of dawn...” 

Robb snorts, “That’s just us being adults for once, I guess.” 

“For once?” Jon gives him a little shove. 

Robb finishes eating, and they walk back to the warmth inside the house, where they start the clean-up by throwing away the empty bottles and cleaning the spill on the floor before Catelyn sees it. 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ 

The table is filled with all the usual people, the food is passed around from hand to hand until it reaches one or other end of it to a muffled “thanks” before three or four conversations start again. For a second it’s like being in a picture from Jon’s childhood, the chatter around him goes on but he remains still for another second, it hits him how things could change from one moment to another and though he can’t be sure this epiphany isn’t caused by sleep deprivation, he just wants to hold that moment for a little bit longer—wishes he could freeze time and take all the comfort he can from it before life hits him with another overdose of reality. 

The moment fades, and he remembers there’s one seat missing from the table, notices the way his uncle withdraws, the way Robb is quiet next to him. Suddenly the moment doesn’t seem so magical anymore. 

Arya frowns at him, and he realizes she was talking to him. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” 

He pretends to listen as she starts talking again and reaches for Robb’s hand, who grips it tightly before getting up and walking towards the bathroom. 

He most likely feels all the eyes on the table following him. 

“So,” Arya says, handing him a glass of wine and sitting across from him in the gazebo. “What’s going on with you two? Trouble in paradise or...” 

“We’re fine,” Jon says with a sigh, that makes her raise an eyebrow as she sips her wine. He crouches on his seat and looks inside, where Catelyn and Lyanna, strange as it seems, talk over their own glasses. 

Arya sees him looking and laughs, “Weird sight, ain’t it? I'm happy they got over themselves.” 

Jon hums in agreement. “Anyway, we really are fine. Better than ever, I'd say, or at least we were before...” Jon sighs again, “well, it’s not _that_ surprising but, everything else is going fine, I guess, so it’s frustrating to see him like this, again.” 

“Yeah.” Arya says, “I can see that.” 

“Maybe it’s _because_ everything else is so great, y’know? Maybe he feels like it shouldn’t be.” She adds after a while. 

“Well, if so I'd like him to _talk_ to me.” It comes out harsher than he intended, but Arya doesn’t seem upset by it. 

“I meant to ask, how are you really?” 

Jon laughs. “I’m... going.”

Arya stares at him. “Going where?” 

Jon hums. “I’m just trying to figure this out. I'm supposed to start working soon and,” he huffs. “I just feel like maybe this is the wrong time for things to finally start working out, you know? Like it’d be fine if we just could take a minute or two.” 

“You can have your dreams, you just can’t appreciate them cause you’re too busy dealing with everything else in your life,” Arya responds, with a bitter laugh, “well, there _are_ worse situations to be in, you know?” 

“Suppose there are,” Jon agrees, looking inside again to catch his grandmother watching the sky with a distracted look on her face. 

“What about you? How have things been?” He changes the subject. 

Arya shrugs, “Same old” 

“Still living with Gendry?” 

“And the others,” She corrects him quickly, “but yeah, and we’re still not quite seeing each other, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“I wasn’t,” Jon says, “I do miss you bringing him along, though.” 

“That’s cause you’re both a pain in the ass, and that makes you two get along.” She complains, and Jon laughs. 

“He’s a nice guy.” 

“I can ask him if he’s into threesomes, if you want—but you’d have to convince Robb.” 

“Screw you,” Jon retorts laughing at the same time Robb walks in. 

“Convince me of what?” 

“ _Nothing_ _.”_

“Having a threesome with Gendry.” They say at the same time. 

Robb frowns, then looks away as though he’s considering it. “I mean...” 

“See, now I can’t bring him.” She says and downs her drink.

“God, Christmas used to be a lot more fun.” She says, after a while when the subject turns to childhood memories, and its obvious counterpart, politics. “Where has all the magic gone to?” 

“Aw, don’t you love spending time with all your relatives in a small house anymore?” Jon asks, hugging Robb as he settles on his lap. 

“I don’t particularly care about sharing a small room with three other people _and_ watching at least four long running discussions unfold, if that’s what you’re referring to,” She retorts, “I prefer my family drama to be fictional, thank you very much.” 

“That’s fair.” Robb mutters, pulling Jon closer. 

❄️ ❄️ 

“I heard you used the g-word in front of Rickard,” Jon says as he walks up to Robb, next to the tree in the corner of the room, with a fake cringe on his face, “that’s a ballsy move.” 

Robb laughs. “I was just... tired.” 

“Well, I'm proud of you, anyway.” 

“Why?” Robb asks, “It’s not a big deal.” 

“A few years ago, you were trying to marry a woman you didn’t love, trust me Robb, you’re doing better than you think you are.” Jon said, putting a hand on Robb’s shoulder. 

He shakes his head. “Guess so. I just feel... Like, I'm glad for having said it, but I'm not relieved or anything, it just feels like something I _had_ to do, you know? And even then, it came so late and because of something so stupid,” Robb sighs, “he was asking me about Jeyne, of all people.” He lets out a laugh and rubs his temple. 

“You’re a lot brave than I am.” He continues, and Jon smiles, “I wish I could’ve just _been_ myself, all this time you know? Faced whatever other people thought and stood up for myself, like you’ve done for years.” 

Jon smiles at him, “You’re so hard on yourself,” he says, “there’s no right way or time to do this, Robb. And my mother was very different from yours. No one could ask you to handle it in any other way because no one lived through the same things as you,” Jon looks down, “not even me.” 

“You know you should hate me right?” Robb says, and Jon know from his tone he believes it, from the way he looks at him, like he’s thankful and doubtful he’s still standing there. 

“I could never hate you,” Jon admits, “but I was pretty mad, for a while.” 

Robb nods, looking down in shame. 

“The thing is... I'm glad we’re here now, having this conversation, and that you’re being honest, with yourself.” 

“So yeah, I'm proud,” Jon is smiling again, holding up his glass as Robb’s gaze meet his, deep blue eyes that shine as he too raises his glass too. “Cheers.” 

Robb licks his lips. “Jon, I—” 

“Merry Christmas!” Someone says, as people across the room start hugging each other, and soon their quiet corner gets swarmed as people try to find which present is theirs. 

Jon continues to look at Robb, waiting for the rest of his sentence, Robb smiles and nods. “Thank you...” he says, “and Merry Christmas.” 

Jon watches as his mother pass them by, smiling as she reaches for a present. “Merry Christmas, Robb.” 

Robb moves to join the others. Jon lets him. 

“What was that, earlier?” His mother asks him, later, as they get ready for bed. 

“What?” He asks, sitting on the old bed in the guest room. 

“You and Robb,” She says, lower. “It looked like a _moment_.” 

Jon chuckles at her words. “A moment?” 

She hums. “Yes, a moment.” 

“If you say so.” Jon says, laying down. 

“Are you two getting back together?” 

Jon watches the white faded paint in the wall, before turning back to her. “I told you before, I'm not sure... besides, last year—” 

“Was last year, Jon,” Lyanna says, “things were different.” 

“Things haven’t changed that much.” 

“As your mother,” she starts in the tone that says he’s being a fool and she knows better, he sighs, “I need to tell you that it looks as if you’re stalling, and I just can’t figure out what for. You love him, and you haven’t stopped loving him and it’s absurdly clear he does too,” 

“Now I'm not saying getting into a relationship would be the best decision, especially so soon after everything that’s happened to Robb, but it’s been two years. And we’re all waiting for you to come home holding hands at this point but... are you willing to wait forever for that? Is he?” 

Jon doesn’t have an answer, and it’s infuriating. 

“Think it through, will you?” 

“Sure.” He says, and finally, finally, she turns the lights off so he can sleep. 

❄️

It was two past three and Christmas had come and gone. Uncle Ben had left earlier that night, having other plans for new year’s. Everyone else has gone to bed, Jon had stayed up late catching up with Sansa and the others, then, when one by one they too started to leave until Robb and him were the only ones left, they moved to his bed where they now lie staring at the ceiling as one of their playlists ran its course. 

Jon doesn’t know how long it has been, nor does he know when they last spoke, but he feels eerily comfortable just lying there next to Robb, listening to songs that he’d probably spent more time than necessary thinking about before sending it to him. 

Robb shifts on the bed, eyes settling on Jon and he feels his throat dry up. 

“You know,” Jon starts, feeling like he should say something, “I’ll probably move in with my mother again.” 

“Oh?” Robb says, quietly as the next song plays. Jon watches the shadows dance as a lone car passes by the street, lights reflecting on Robb’s widow. 

“Yeah. Suppose I might look into working here, at least for a while,” Jon comments, “until I figure out what to do next.” 

“You’re not really considering abandoning your PhD, are you?” Robb asks with a frown. 

“No.” Jon says, “Just... seeing how things go, I guess. Feels like I should be out in the real world for a while, I am an anthropologist after all.” 

Robb doesn’t say anything after that, and Jon enjoys the somber mood of the song for a while before beginning again. 

“I thought it’d also be nice, to be closer to you and all.” He says, forcing his voice out. 

Robb breathes in slowly, turning to watch Jon’s face. Jon forces himself to look away. 

“I see.” Is all he says. 

“What?” Jon asks. 

“Jon...” Robb mutters, then, with a sigh turns the volume down on his phone. “You know I'm still... figuring stuff out, I'm not sure how long I'll stay here for.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“So don’t... don’t come back for me...” he says, “It's probably a bad idea.” 

“I’m not,” Jon says, and when Robb continues to look at him he adds, “that’s _not_ the only reason, I mean, I need some time to figure out what to do next, you know.” 

“Yeah, and I get that,” Robb says, “but I feel like... you’re using me as a clutch not to have to take a chance or something.” 

“That’s not fair,” Jon tells him, “Robb I l—” 

“Well, it isn’t, at all,” Robb turns away, “it isn’t fair at all. But it’s also not fair of you to do this with me.” 

“What am doing?” Jon asks to the back of Robb’s head. 

“Dangling the possibility of us in my face,” Robb looks back, “I _begged_ you for a chance last year, and it wasn’t... it wasn’t right, Jon, and it’s not now. You'll always have me, but I'm not helping you hold yourself back.” 

Jon swallows, wanting to start an argument but deciding against it. 

It's his turn to look away. 

“That’s not what I'm doing, I promise.” 

“Then what is it?” 

“Look, Robb, I just—” 

“I get that you feel lost, but if we just stay here and pretend this is what we wanted we’ll probably end right back where we left off, lost and unhappy and mad at each other.” Robb interrupts him. “Jon I've been here before. Figure out what you want to do, and do it, I'll still be here.” 

Robb’s hand moves to him, tracing the stubble on his cheek and down to his chin. Jon sighs. 

“This wasn’t how I wanted it to come out.” He admits. 

“I know.” Robb says, eyes tracing his face the same as his finger, the room is warm with the heat of their bodies. “So please don’t insist, I might forget everything I just said.” 

Jon laughs, pulling him closely and hiding his face on Robb’s chest. “How’d you get so wise?” 

“Lots of time for contemplation when you’re depressed and unemployed.” 

Jon hits him in the arm for it, but smiles against Robb’s chest anyway. 

“How freaked out will you mother be if I sleep here today?” He asks. 

“A lot.” Robb says after a second. “It’ll be worth it.” He adds with a smile of his own. 

When he wakes the house is still silent and Robb is still warm against him. It pains him to leave, but he knows it’s probably best that way. (He only looks back once). 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ 

Robb is drinking wine next to Arya, idly considering the room as the children run around. Sansa is sitting by the window next to a tipsy Harry who is going on at length about some subject Jon is not privy to, but if he knows Harry at all, it’s probably inconsequential and highly amusing. Sansa catches his gaze and smiles. 

Jon makes his way towards Robb slowly, he can hear Catelyn and his mother talking with his grandmother in the kitchen, and his uncles discussing something in hushed tones in the other side of the room, he’s only a little proud of having managed to host the first Christmas in their apartment. 

Just as he slides next to Robb, hand on his waist and head on his shoulder Gendry walks to them with a cup for Arya. She thanks him with a wicked smile and turns straight to Jon. 

“Suppose ‘tis time to tell you,” She says, “he doesn’t do threesomes.” 

“What?” Jon and Robb ask at the same time Gendry spits out his drink looking at Arya in confusion. 

She shrugs. 

“At least she didn’t say it in front of mom,” Robb offers, to Jon or Gendry he doesn’t know. 

“That is true.” Arya says, “and now I kind of wish I had.” 

Gendry, who seems to have caught up to what she meant blushes. “Yeah, I'll... go somewhere else now, thank you.” 

Arya’s smile is nothing short of smug. “I _think_ Theon would be up for it, if you guys want I can check.” 

“What makes you think we haven’t asked?” Robb asks, and she laughs. 

“Well played. Now I have to go explain all this to Gendry, you pervs.” She says as she walks away. 

“Please don’t embarrass us any more,” Jon begs as she goes. 

“No promises.” Arya replies without looking back. 

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ 

It’s the day after Christmas and the presents have been opened, the clutter of dirty plates and dirty cups have been cleaned and the sink filled with them again as the hours passed. The conversations had started and died down, the stories and memories had been shared until they started repeating. And through it all Robb had been withdrawn, silent, apathetic. Jon watched with worry, trying to make excuses where he could as not to worry their relatives too much but it wasn’t a big secret that he wasn’t well. Just like the others weren’t. 

But none of them had spent days in bed, and none of them had refused to take their prescription. It was a question of time until the whole thing eventually caught up to him, and after one too many worried glances and whispered ‘are you okay?’ and a snappy response that silences the room Robb flees outside, to the old gazebo. 

Jon walks up to him in the snow, hearing more than seeing Arya and Sansa walking out behind him. He puts his hands in his pockets as he wonders how many times they’d walked this path now, how many moments they shared on these steps, this place, under these stars. 

“Hey you,” He says as he sits down next to Robb. Who doesn’t looks up from where he is, hugging his legs against his chest. 

Jon stays there, silent. He's been here a few times now. 

“I’m sorry,” Robb says finally, “I know everyone’s worried and...” 

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Jon interrupts him. 

“Well, I am.” 

Jon doesn’t answers for a while, then, “did you take your pills?” 

Robb huffs, still with his back to Jon. “Yeah, I took them Jon, not everything—” he doesn’t finishes, turns to him as Jon sits down next to him. 

“It’s okay.” Jon says, he can take it, “just, just talk to me.” 

“It’s not okay, Jon, it fucking isn’t. It hasn’t been for a while.” 

“We can look for another therapist, if you want.” Jon offers. 

“I honestly don’t think that’s the problem, Jon.” His voice is bitter, angry, Jon tries not to mind it. 

“Then what is it?” 

“The problem is...” Robb starts raising his voice, Jon notices faces against the widow watching them, Sansa and Arya lost somewhere behind his back. 

“He’s dead Jon,” He says, voicing it like a confession, “and it hit me I spent my life trying to be someone I wasn’t to make things easier for me, for others. And for a second I was relieved that I had one less person with expectations about me.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, “How messed up is that?” 

He doesn’t lets Jon answer, “But the worse thing is, even then, even _now_ I can’t stop think I'm failing somehow, it’s like I can’t win, you know? ” he says in a hushed breathless tone “ A nd I think of all these moments where I _should_ be happy and I should... but the truth is I don’t think I was made for happiness.” 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me but I think about it and I'm not sure why that can’t be enough,” he chokes on his words and Jon watches in silence as he tries to find the right ones, “I just think about all the ways I'm not enough and I—I'd never be ashamed of you, of us, but I wonder if I could change everything about me like I’ve tried if... if I wouldn’t change that, too. And I'm so fucking tired of feeling this way.” 

Jon can tell he’s crying, and he isn’t sure either that’s a bad thing or not because he can’t remember the last time Robb truly cried. And then he’s holding him, trying to understand what Robb just said as he remembers that night, three months ago and how everything went from fine to... this. 

— 

_Jon listened as Robb talked with his mother over the phone, the road all but empty as he drove faster than he should. He still felt sleep calling up to him as he tried to make sense of it all, the phone call at three a.m., Robb trying to_ _piece_ _together what was being told to him and then getting dressed in a hurry._

_Everything was so quiet before that, Jon remember_ _ed t_ _heir night in front of the tv, for once focusing on it and not trying to read some article or Robb trying to figure out a case, just them enjoying each other’s company._

_They arrived at the hospital forty minutes later and a few minutes too late, Robb jumped out before he even turned it off. They held hands as they made their way across the reception desk and into the waiting room, where Ned and Catelyn w_ _ere w_ _aiting, Lyarra at their side, looking at her own hands. Sansa walked in right then, throwing a distracted ‘hi’ in their direction as they all made their way towards the others._

_“How is he?” She ask_ _ed_ _._

_“He_ _..._ _died_ _. They were trying to resuscitate... we’ve just been told,_ _” Ned sa_ _id_ _, almost in a whisper, “Cardiac arrest, they said._ _It doesn’t make any sense..._ _”_

_His phone r_ _ung_ _before he c_ _ould_ _say anything else and he excuse_ _d_ _himself, “It’s Benjen,” He clear_ _ed_ _his throat, “We_ _have_ _to prepare the funeral.”_

_“Stay with your grandma.” He_ _added in a whisper_ _before picking up the call and leaving them._

_Jon s_ _at_ _down, taking_ _Lyarra’s_ _hand on his. They s_ _a_ _t silently on the uncomfortable chairs, watch_ _ed_ _the white dry walls of the place as people come and go, until they release_ _d_ _his body, until Ned prepared his wake. Until his grandma finally b_ _roke_ _down and crie_ _d_ _. Until they_ _’ve buried_ _him and Robb's_ _curle_ _d_ _into himself and Jon h_ _as_ _t_ _o try t_ _o pierce together Rickard’s sudden death and what it mean_ _t_ _for the family_ _. What it meant for him, and for them._

— 

“I just...” Robb starts again and stops with a muted sigh wiping away his tears, “I look at you and everyone else and I-I think about everything I've thought I'd accomplish and every—every arbitrary rule I've made for myself, to keep me from-from going insane or, from just being... me I guess, and it just feels like I'm a hundred feet behind a race that should be easy, like everyone’s got a handbook but me and that—I’ll just end up fucking up again like I did and the truth is, I feel like I don’t deserve any of it, any of the love and patience you showed me and I look at you and I think about how much _better_ you deserve and I,” 

Tears come to his eyes again. “I’m not it, Jon. And maybe you should leave before you realize that in the worst of ways. I don’t want to hurt you again.” 

Jon shakes his head. “Robb, that’s not true.” 

“I know that,” He cradles Jon’s head between his hands, “I know you love me, I just... with grandpa gone, it’s like there’s nothing to stop us right? But I just _can’t_ be happy and that’s the thing Jon, I think I’m _broken_ somehow and I'll end up making you just as miserable if this goes on. And I don’t want that, I don’t want this for you.” 

“You’re not broken, love.” Jon kisses him, tears wetting his face and his clothes—he knew Robb’s issues, he saw him battle inner demons from the moment he woke to when he went to bed, he saw him sobbing on the bathroom floor hanging on by a thread and felt so powerless against the thoughts and feelings going through the man he loves, but Robb never spoke so openly about them, Jon never thought he’d see him put himself down this way. 

It hurts to hear the way he questions himself, questions them, and Jon isn’t sure how to assure Robb and himself it’s going to be alright at the same time. 

And the worst of it all is that now he truly understands where Robb goes in those moments when he is silent in bed, unresponsive and cold as Jon tries to pull him back. He realizes that for all they’ve been through, and how much he loves him, he still has no idea how to face this. 

Robb sobs, and Jon holds his head to his chest as he feels Catelyn’s eyes on him. Sansa is silent where she stands, and Arya paces away, a cigar on her shaky hand. 

“I promise you. You _are_ capable of being happy, it’s just a bad day—it's just a bad time , Robb— but we are here and we love you, so _so_ much. You don’t have to be happy right now, or tomorrow, you just have to hang on, hang on to us, okay?” Jon asks, trying to sound firm and sure but probably failing, “Just stay with me, one day at a time, and we’ll make it. I promise you.” 

Robb’s body shakes with his sobbing, tears spilling into the cloth of Jon’s shirt and he shakes his head but Jon holds him through it, wiping away his own tears until Robb looks up, face wet and red as another sob makes its way out. 

“How can you love me?” His tone breaks Jon’s heart, because in that moment he understands that Robb really doesn’t know the answer, he truly cannot see it. “Most days I don’t even—I don’t know if this is just an act.” He gestures at himself as he says it, at his face. 

Jon shook his head. “I love you because I know you, Robb, I _know_ you. As much as anyone can know anybody else.” Robb sobs again.

“Did I ever...” Jon starts, licking his lips as he goes on, “ever tell you how I knew I loved you? Really loved you?” 

Robb looks up then, shaking his head as more tears fall, he tris to wipe them away but just gives up. Jon holds his face up. Makes him look into his eyes. 

“It was after we kissed, before... before anything really happened. Before I knew where it’d take us. I remember how you were tipsy and carefree and I thought I never wanted to _know_ anyone as much as I wanted—I didn’t even... think of us as a couple really, I just... you’re the best person I know and I just wanted to be there with you, to see you grow and become the wonderful man you have become, and I was so _jealous_ of you because I never thought in a million years I'd be the kind of person anyone would think these things of—much less you—and then you called me, and you were so worried that you’d somehow ruined things with that kiss and you told me, you told me you never would do anything to hurt me cause you couldn’t think of a life without me, without us,” he holds Robb’s hand on his and kisses it, once then twice, “and I knew that I would do anything to be with you. Forever, and I can’t believe that as foolish and young as we were, that we did it, we stumbled upon _this_ and it’s real, and I love you, and I _will_ remind you again and again, every single day if I have to. You _deserve_ our love.” 

Robb sobs get harder and he shakes on Jon’s arms. “I’ve tried... I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t want you to see me like this... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...” 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Jon says again, this time into his hair, as he feels tears run down his cheek again, “you never have to be sorry, and you do not have to shield me from this. I promised you I'd be there for you, even if I couldn’t help, I promised I'd hold you and I will, you have to trust that I can, Robb.” The _please_ he whispers gets swallowed by a sob. 

Robb doesn’t answer, just hugs Jon tightly, nails digging into him as he cries. Jon cries with him, then holds him as the others move inside, until the night starts to turn into morning and the sun rises shyly from behind grey clouds and Robb still clings, half asleep into his embrace and Jon holds him and kisses his forehead and whispers ‘I love you’ and ‘it’ll be okay’ until he convinces Robb of it, until he convinces himself of it.

And then they stumble towards his bed, and fall into it as Robb falls asleep on his chest and he finds himself easing into a dreamless slumber for the first time in a while. 

When he wakes, Robb is staring at him an apology coming to his lips but Jon shushes him before he gets to say it, bringing him closer until he lets out a sigh and allows himself to be held again. 

They get up some time after, Catelyn pulling Robb into a hug for a long time, sharing a look of gratitude, or perhaps understanding, with Jon over his shoulder before offering them tea. Robb apologizes again. 

Later, they get him to call his shrink, and Jon sits with Arya outside Robb’s old room, hearing the muffled sound of his voice and hopes they’ll be alright. 

❄️ ❄️ 

“I hear you’re going away again,” Sansa says as she sits next to him in the silent room. The others are outside, talking and drinking and sharing stories, he needed a break from it all. 

Jon smiles, “It’s not that far away.” 

“I’m glad.” She says, “It’s been good having you around again.” 

“It’s been good being here, but that’s not going change,” Jon says, and she smiles. “How are you by the way? With Joffrey and everything?” 

Sansa chuckles. “Not great, to be honest.” She seems to ponder if she should say anything else, Jon lets her come to that decision by herself. 

“It feels like everyone expects me to be super relieved or to burst into tears at any second but it just feels like... I don’t know, I’ve been so stupid.” She says a little while later. 

“You were in love.” 

Sansa laughs, “Well, that’s the stupid part, isn’t it? I should’ve known how he truly was.” 

“Hindsight is great, but there’s a reason it’s hindsight, you know?” Jon says. 

“You’re telling me you didn’t think he was an asshole?” Sansa asks then, and when he doesn’t immediately answers raises her eyebrow. 

“Yeah.” She sighs, “It’s okay, really, I _am_ relieved it’s finally over, it’s just... I can’t believe I fell for him and his lies.” 

She lets out a dry laugh, “The worst thing is that it still hurts.” 

Then, looking down with a shake of her head she adds, “I’m sorry, you probably don’t wanna hear about him of all people.” 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Jon says. “I don’t... know the right words here but, a break-up is a break-up, I'm sure you had nice moments with him to mourn, doesn’t take away from the fact he was a dick but I don’t think you’re forgetting that. Are you?” 

“Yeah, no,” She sighs again, “I just wish I didn’t feel anything at all about it. Is that too much to ask?” 

“Probably, yeah.” Jon smiles and she returns it. 

“I’m sorry, Jon,” She says finally, changing the subject. 

“What for?” 

“For letting you push away, I barely understood it but... I know we didn’t try to reach out enough, that was a mistake,” She says, then as if realizing it, “we’re full of mistakes in this house.” 

“It’s all in the past now.” 

“I’m glad,” She says, “You seem to have it figured out.” 

He smiles at her, shaking his head slightly. 

“How about you?” He asks, “You were working for that magazine, right?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Sansa says. “My internship is ending now, not sure what I'll do after. Maybe some freelancing.” 

“Oh, that’s cool.” Jon offers. 

“Tell that to mom,” Sansa jokes, “still, I'll try to make it work.” 

“Well, you’ll be a great writer, whatever you end up doing.” Jon says. 

“And you’re going to be a great academic, Jon,” She says, “hopefully one that visits more often.” 

He laughs. “Well, we can always meet for coffee, maybe get Robb and Arya to come along. Bran and Rickon too.” 

“Then there’s probably going to be some argument two min—” 

“Did I hear my name?” Robb asks as he walks in. 

“Did you?” Jon asks back, teasing. 

“We were talking about how we should all meet more often,” Sansa says. 

“Oh.” He says. “That’s a good plan.” 

“Right,” Sansa says, looking from Jon to Robb and back again. Then subtly excusing herself just as Robb says “So, I _think_ they won’t miss us if we leave for a while, and I could really use a breather. Wanna come along?” 

Jon resists the urge to grab his hand as they wear their coats and walk outside. 

It’s the day after Christmas, and they’re sitting at a booth in a diner that’s surprisingly open that late. Jon can hear his mother words on his mind, like the chorus of a song on repeat, his heart is on his throat trying to push himself to make a move—he just doesn’t know how. 

“You should know I rejected grandpa’s offer, this time for real.” Robb says, sipping from his cappuccino with a smile. 

“Oh,” Jon says, as a couple leaves the table next to theirs, cold wind drifting in as they leave and a group of teens no older than Rickon walks in, laughing. “Good.” 

“Yeah.” Robb says and he does seem pleased, with an easy smile and a certainty he lacked a few days ago. “I just wish there was some guarantee I won’t regret it bitterly in a few years.” 

Jon smiles, “Where would be the fun in that?” 

“None of this is fun, Jon,” Robb says, but his mouse twitches as he looks at Jon. 

The low humming music in the background changes to what Jon recognizes as a cover of Wham’s _Last Christmas._

_“_ I’m excited though, I mean, I'll probably starve but at least I’ll starve with integrity, you know?” 

“Sticking it to the man,” Jon says, with a chuckle, “could not ask for anything else.” It’s only slightly awkward, the way they carry the conversation. Does Robb realize it’s a dance or is this all he wanted to talk about? 

“And you’ll be doing research.” His blue eyes are set on Jon, shy smile on his lips, “you really had me worried for a second last year, you know?” 

Jon scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment, “Yeah, it was... I don’t even know. I'm sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Robb says, humming along to the song. 

“This is _not_ where I thought we’d be two years ago.” He adds. 

Jon gives a nod in agreement and Robb sighs as he lets himself crouch on his seat. 

He can hear the words he’s meant to say on his head now, the familiar song making its way to the front of his mind. He licks his lips. 

“Listen, I...” Robb’s eyes lit up, searching his face. He seems almost relieved Jon’s said something. 

“I know it wasn’t the moment last year, or back when... with how you were, and I hate to presume but,” he laughs dryly at himself for what he’s about to say, “Robb I love you, and I know I always will, somehow, and this isn’t to say we _have_ to be together but goddamn it, let’s try, okay? ‘Cause life’s crazy and we have no idea how it’s going to be in a month or in a year, but I want to be next to you for it. All of it.” 

Robb says nothing for a second, and then another, the song changes again. 

“I know I'm moving away, but I'm going to be back... and we can just...” He swallows, more nervous than he were when they were just kids sharing their first kiss in a frozen street. 

Robb takes his hand in a warm and firm grip. “You’re right,” he starts, leaning closer, “it wasn’t the right time last year, even though I desperately wanted it to be.” 

Jon nods, looking down. “I think we were trying to use us as a clutch for a while, and it’s a great clutch but it was for the best.” Robb continues. “I think we’re... better now.” 

He sighs loudly. “So yeah, Jon you have to know, I don’t want to picture what life is without you again,” He squeezes Jon’s hand, “I gave you up once, and it was a mistake, I'm not doing that again, even if you were about to move to Antarctica.” 

Their fingers intertwine on the table and Jon smiles. 

“Christmas is going to become even more awkward, isn’t it?”

“I don’t really care.” Robb mutters, still smiling as he leans in for a kiss.

Jon isn’t sure perfect moments are a thing, but this one came pretty close to it anyway. 


End file.
